


You're Beautiful

by Ishxallxgood



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Meetings, God help this boy, Love at First Sight, M/M, Oblivious Katsuki Yuuri, Phichit Chulanont is a Little Shit, Phichit saves the day, Phichit's got his back, Social Media, Victor I'm Extra™ Nikiforov, Victor's got it bad, Wingman Phichit Chulanont, Yuuri is a danseur
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-07 02:44:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12224130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishxallxgood/pseuds/Ishxallxgood
Summary: Victor meets an angel on the subway.  Or a stranger who he's convinced is an angel.Yuuri meets a guy who he swears looks just likethe Victor Nikiforovon the subway, but is convinced that there's no way that it's actually Victor Nikiforov because why would Victor Nikiforov be on the subway?Phichit is done with this shit and takes matters into his own hands.What had happened was I was listening to the radio and James Blunt's You're Beautiful came on and this thing weaseled its way into my head.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DiamondWinters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiamondWinters/gifts).



“Holy shit Yuuri. Victor Nikiforov is totally standing three feet from us.” Phichit whispered into this friend’s ear as the subway jerked causing him to fall onto his friend.

 

“Phichit,” Yuuri said, helping Phichit right himself, “why would _the Victor Nikiforov_ be on the subway?”

 

“Bro, I’m telling you it’s him.”  Phichit insisted, glancing toward the left again.  “I mean celebrities take the subway all the time… Like Neil Patrick Harris.”

 

“Yes, but I mean this is _Victor Nikiforov_ we’re talking about.”

 

“Okay, okay,” Phichit said looking over Yuuri’s shoulder again, “Let’s just say it isn’t Victor Nikiforov, although I still say it is, it’s a guy that _looks_ just like Victor Nikiforov.  You should at least smile and say hi.”

 

“Phichit, I’m not talking to some random dude on the subway.”

 

“Why not?  He looks _just like_ Victor Nikiforov.”

 

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Yuuri finally conceded and glanced over to where Phichit kept looking.  Yuuri gasped as the man happened to look up at that exact moment and for a split second their eyes met.  For a moment Yuuri forgot how to breathe, because Phichit was right, there was a guy on the subway, standing not three feet away from them who looked exactly like Victor Nikiforov.  When the man flashed Yuuri a smile he could feel his whole face flush as he tried to calm his heartbeat down and not pass out on the spot.

 

“Told you.” Phichit whispered in Yuuri’s ear as he nudged him with his arm.  “Smile back.”

 

Nodding weakly, Yuuri manage a smile before quickly turning to bury his face into Phichit’s shoulder.  “Oh my god Phichit he totally does look like Victor Nikiforov.  I’m dead.”

 

“RIP Yuuri Katsuki.”  Phichit said gravely patting his friend on the head.  

 

* * *

 

Victor was running late.  It was his fault really, but he couldn’t help but be annoyed as he shuffled onto the crowded subway because it was quicker than taking an Uber considering the traffic at this hour.  It was only three stops, he could do this.

 

As the subway lurched with a start he found himself being shoved deeper into the car and reluctantly grabbed the pole to stop himself from falling onto the people seated in the chairs in front of him.  He hated the subway, but it was a necessary evil.

 

Trying his hardest to remain incognito he tried to ignore the people around him, but couldn’t help but catch his name being whispered in the car.  When the train stopped again, Victor found the crowd thinning a little and chanced a look around to see if anyone would be pressing him for pictures and autographs.  Not that he didn’t enjoy interacting with his fans, he was just in a hurry and would rather not today.

 

The moment his eyes feel upon the beautiful Asian man in blue rimmed glasses he thanked every god in existence for putting him in that subway car at that exact point in time.  He felt his heart clench within his chest as the man next to him leaned over and started whispering in his ear.  Of course the man of his dreams, this angel amongst men, was taken, but he would not lose sleep over something as insignificant as that.  

 

Glancing down at the man’s hands, he found that both hands were bare, there was no ring in sight, which meant he still had a chance.  But first, he needed him to notice him.  

 

How hard could it be?  

 

He was Victor Nikiforov.  People’s most beautiful man in the world five years running, he was honestly surprised no one had said anything to him yet.  The subway lurched again and he shifted himself a little close to the pair, hoping that he could catch that beautiful man’s eye, because People magazine was wrong.  Victor Nikiforov was not the most beautiful man in the world, the most beautiful man in the world was sitting two and a half feet away from him, talking in whispers with whom he could only assume was his boyfriend.

 

The subway started again, and Victor cursed the fact that he only had one more stop to go, he had to do something. Looking up, he decided to steal another glance, only to be caught in the most beautiful amber eyes he had ever seen in his life. It took every fiber within his being to not rush over there and sweep the man off his feet, so instead he allowed his face to breakout into the warmest smile he had ever known.

 

Victor didn't know what to make of the blush which encompassed the man's face except ascend to heaven, because Victor Nikiforov was dead. Slain by a smile from a beautiful stranger.

 

As the train eased into the station, Victor scrambled to pull himself together and made his way toward the exit, positioning himself in front of the angel clad in a nondescript blue sweatshirt and well loved jeans. The train jerked to a stop, propelling Victor forward, and before he could reach out to brace himself, the man grabbed his arm and held him steady. Victor's eyes shot down to meet his angel’s and a moment of serendipity passed between them.

 

The doors chimed and Victor found himself being pulled away by the crowd, but he knew, that he had found his other half.

.

 

“Chris!~” Victor wailed as he entered the studio and flung himself onto the nearest couch.

 

“Victor, get up you're already late.”

 

Sitting up Victor regarded  Christophe in all seriousness.  “Because of serendipity, Chris. Serendipity. I met an angel on the subway.”

 

Christophe pulled a face as Victor finally stood up and made his way over to where the make-up artist was patiently waiting for him. “ And when do you ride the subway?”

 

“When fate deems it time for me to find my other half Chris.” Victor sighed. “He was beautiful.”

 

“What's his name?”

 

“Oh my God Chris!” Victor exclaimed, eyes blown wide as Christophe fought back a laugh. “I didn't catch his name! He was with someone… I didn't get a chance to talk to him.”

 

“Wait… let me get this straight?” Christophe managed to choke out between laughs. “You met the man of your dreams, your other half, your soulmate and he was with another man?”

 

“I have a plan.” Victor declared.

 

“And what’s that?”

 

““He’s beautiful Chris.”

 

“That’s not a plan, Victor.”

 

Letting out a sigh, Victor turned to face Christophe.  “I don’t think you understand Chris, he’s so beautiful, it’s true.  I saw his face, in a crowded place…”

 

“Still not a plan, Victor.”

 

“What do you want me to say, Chris?” Victor asked in a huff.  “I don’t actually have a plan.  He was a beautiful angel I met on the subway.  An angel who was with another man.”

 

“Fuck, Victor, you don’t even know his name.”

 

“Ah Chris, what’s in a name?  That which we call a rose, by any other name would still smell as sweet.”

 

“Don’t fucking Shakespear me, Victor.”

 

“Sonnets should be written for this man’s beauty, Chris.”

 

“Then write them, Victor.  Write them all over your social media.  Write of his eyes, his hair, his- I don’t fucking know, teeth?”

 

“You are a genius Chris!  That’s exactly what I’ll do.”  Before Christophe had a chance to even object, Victor’s fingers were flying over his phone screen.

 

* * *

 

“Yuuri.” Phichit said throwing an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders as they made their way out of the classroom.  “Did you see Victor’s latest tweets.”

 

“You know, Phichit,” Yuuri said as he pulled out his phone, “some of us actually pay attention in class.”

 

“Yes, yes, but Yuuri, Victor has been blowing up twitter with proclamations of love for the _angel he met on the subway_.”

 

Furrowing his brows Yuuri nodded as he read as quickly as he could, letting out a sad sgih.  “Yes, I can see that.  Well, I guess that’s that.”

 

“The fuck, Yuuri!? Why do you sound so sad about this!?”

 

“Because… I mean Victor obviously found the love of his life…”

 

“Yeah he did!” Phichit screamed, shaking Yuuri by his shoulders.  “And it’s _YOU!_ HE’S LOOKIN FOR YOU!”

 

“What!?” Yuuri screeched, pulling away from Phichit.  “How?  What?  Where in the world would you get an idea like that!?”

 

“Oh I don't know,” Phichit said scrolling through Victor's tweets, “maybe because he posted and I quote, 'My life is brilliant. My love is pure. I saw an angel, of this I'm sure. He smiled at me on the subway, he was with another man.’”

 

“Yes, I read that too.”

 

“Oh my god Yuuri, how dense can you be!? He was obviously talking about us, because I'm convinced that that guy who 'looks like Victor Nikiforov’ we saw earlier today was actually Victor fucking Nikiforov.”

 

Yuuri frowned at his friend. Sure, he had a point, the guy they saw on the subway earlier certainly _could_ have been Victor, but it still doesn't mean the person Victor was tweeting about was _him. “_ Oh come on Phichit, he could have been talking about _anyone_ , not specifically me.”

 

Slapping his hand over his face, Phichit fought the urge to strangle his friend to death. “Oh course he was talking about you Yuuri! I mean he tweeted, 'his eyes were like golden pools of amber, hidden behind simple blue frames- for if bared naked to the world we would all be lost forever.’”

 

“I mean… I can't be the only person in New York City with brown eyes and blue glasses. He could literally have been talking about anyone.”

 

“Really, Yuuri!?” Phichit screamed waving the phone in his face. “'His hair was the color of the darkest night, shining like ocean, calling for my heart.’”

 

“Once again, Phichit, there has to be half a million people in New York City with black hair. I'm not that special.”

 

“You are insufferable Yuuri! It's so obviously you! I mean, ‘An angel amongst the ranks of men, with a smile so pure the cherubs weep. You're beautiful, it's true.’”

 

Yuuri let out a long sigh as they entered the small Thai restaurant tucked away between a florist shop and a dry cleaners. “Now I definitely know he's not talking about me. I'm not beautiful.”

 

“Oh my God Yuuri. If I didn't love you so much I would have killed you already. You, Yuuri Katsuki is the most beautiful man who have ever walked the face of this Earth.”

 

“Phichit…” Yuuri said slowly with a hint of warning in his voice, as the waitress sat there down in their usual table in the corner. “I will not stand for such blasphemy. You and I both know that Victor Nikiforov is the most beautiful man in the world… five years running now, and I will not suffer you insulting him to my face.”

 

Phichit pulled a face at Yuuri and went back to reading Victor's tweets, “Get this Yuuri, 'The blush of his cheeks could shame the red, red rose.’ Who knew Victor Nikiforov was such a poet.”

 

“Seriously, Phichit, I'm not delusional enough to think he's actually talking about me.”

 

“But what if he was!? Are you just going to leave him hanging like that?” Phichit exclaimed, pausing to thank the waitress for their food before turning his attention back to Yuuri. “I mean for fuck's sake Yuuri, are you even reading these tweets? ‘There must be an angel with a smile on his face, when he thought up that I should be with you.’”

 

“Phichit, he's literally just posting the lyrics to James Blunt's, You're Beautiful, with the pronouns changed.”

 

“Fine, you know what, I give up. You win this round.” Phichit said in mock defeat. “Pre dinner selfie?”

 

Phichit ignored the rolling of Yuuri's eyes before he leaned in for the selfie, smirking to himself as he posted it onto Instagram with the caption, _@v_nikiforov Yes, he caught your eye, as you walked on by, I could see from your face that you were, fuckin’ high._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evidently a LOT of people wanted me to continue this... so thank my enablers @[DiamondWinters](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DiamondWinters/) and @[TheCauldron](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCauldron/) for convincing me to continue this. <3

“Phichit, go away.”

 

Yanking the blankets off his his roommate Phichit kicked him in the side just for good measure. “Wake up, we're going for coffee.”

 

Rolling over Yuuri squinted at his phone before letting out a groan and burying his face back into the pillows. “Erph too errly foo dis shit.”

 

“Yuuri Katsuki get your ass up and come to get coffee with me or I swear to God I'm burning one of your Victor Nikiforov posters.”

 

Shooting upright Yuuri tackled Phichit to the ground before snarling at him. “You wouldn't dare.”

 

“Oh hey, Yuuri! Since you're up, let's go get coffee!”

.

 

“What the actual fuck, Phichit?” Yuuri asked as they made their way through Christopher Park toward the Starbucks between West 4th Street and 7th Avenue.   “Did we just bypass Jack’s to go to  _ Starbucks _ ?”

 

“Uhhh… I wanted a frapp?” 

 

Yuuri narrowed his eyes at his friend, and if looks could kill, Phichit would have been on the ferry making his way across the River Styx at that very moment.  “You hate- no  _ abhor _ frappuccinos.”

 

“What can I say?” Phichit asked with a shrug, dodging the swing of Yuuri’s fist to his face, “I wanted a change?”

 

“Well you could have at least picked something  _ good _ and not burnt piss in a cup.”

 

“Oh come on Yuuri, where's your sense of adventure?”

 

“Clearly not at a Starbucks.” Yuuri mumbled as they cleared the park.

 

Flashing Yuuri a smile Phichit hummed quietly to himself as they continued to walk. As they stood on the corner of West 4th and Groove, waiting for the light to change, Yuuri suddenly froze, his hand becoming a vice grip on Phichit's arm.

 

“Phichit…” Yuuri whispered shaking his arm. “That's… that's Victor Nikiforov.”

 

“What no,” Phichit said dismissively waving him off, his voice going up an octave. “What would  _ the Victor Nikiforov _ be doing at a Starbucks in the West Village? Probably just some guy that looks like him.”

 

“Phichit, no, it's him. I would know Victor Nikiforov anywhere.” Yuuri said as he pulled Phichit across the street.

 

“Right, like on a subway?” Phichit asked with a raised eyebrow. 

 

“No seriously, Phichit, that’s Victor Nikiforov.”  Yuuri insisted as crossed again making their way toward the mob of people surrounding one, Victor Nikiforov.  “For starters he’s standing there signing autographs, a lookalike wouldn’t be doing that, unlike the guy on the subway.”

 

“If you say so.” Phichit sang as the weaved their way through the crowd.  Although, Yuuri did have a point.  Victor was not acknowledged at all on the subway yesterday, probably because like Yuuri, the rest of his fans were in disbelief that  _ the Victor Nikiforov _ would be on a subway.  Evidently standing in front of a Starbucks in the West Village was something he  _ would _ do.

 

Yuuri had no idea what he was going to say to  _ the Victor Nikiforov _ , not that he hadn’t imagined a scenario where he randomly ran into him on the street a million times.  Still, that was not how he had  _ wanted _ to meet Victor Nikiforov.  Yuuri wanted to meet him on his level somehow, although that in of itself was something of an impossibility.  What would Yuuri, a graduate student at NYU possibly do to meet five time Emmy winning, two time Tony winning, and a Grammy winning, Victor Nikiforov on his level.

 

Resigning to the fact that he would be meeting Victor as a fan, Yuuri couldn’t help but wonder what it was he would have the man sign, it wasn’t like he walked around carrying something for autographs on the small chance he might run into him.  Okay, that may or may not be a lie.  He may or may not have fifteen laminated photographs of Victor in his wallet, but those were certainly not for  _ signing _ .  Not that he could really tell you what they were for, they were just there.

 

Pushing their way to the front of the crowd, Phichit smirked to himself as he saw Victor catch his eye.  The man’s face lit up like a Christmas tree and he quickly excused himself from his fans before descending upon them.

 

“Phichit…” Yuuri hissed in his ear.  “He’s coming over here… why is he coming over here?  I’m not ready.”

 

“PHICHIT!” Victor all but shouted, shoving a grande green tea frappuccino into his hands.  “Here’s your drink, I was so worried you wouldn’t come!”

 

The crowd around them started murmuring as Yuuri’s jaw fell open and his best friend and traitorous roommate accepted a drink from  _ the Victor Nikiforov _ .  Victor was now beaming at the two of them, staring at Yuuri expectantly as Phichit removed the paper from the straw and took a sip of his drink.  Seconds, which felt like hours ticked by as the three of them stood there, in front of a Starbucks coffee, while Yuuri internally combusted.

 

“Oh shit,” Phichit finally said, breaking the silence as he pulled out his phone and checked the time.  “I promised Ketty I would meet up with her at Bosie to discuss the music for our project.”

 

Quirking an eyebrow at his friend, Yuuri begged Phichit not to leave him alone with Victor, because this could not really be happening right now, but all he got in response was a cold drink being pushed into his hand.  “Phichit…” He hissed again under his breath.  “I don’t want your garbage drink.”

 

“It’s from Victor, Yuuri!  I’m sure you’ll love it.” Phichit chirped, enjoy.  “See you later Victor! I’m trusting you with Yuuri!”

 

“Phichit!” Yuuri whined, as Phichit pulled out of his grip, “Don’t leave, and I don’t want this mockery of green tea!  You owe me a real matcha latte.”

 

Yuuri stared helplessly after Phichit, wondering what on earth he was going to do now.  Victor fucking Nikiforov was standing there in front of him, expecting something from him, because he was evidently the current object of his affections.  How on earth did this even happen?  Was this his life now?  Coffee dates with Victor Nikiforov?

 

“Yuuri,” Victor purred, extending his arm toward him, drawing him out of his own head, “starting today, I’m your boyfriend. I’ll show you the extent of my life and love.”

 

It was most likely at that moment in time when Yuuri’s brain short-circuited.  It was impossible that Victor Nikiforov was standing in front of him, in the middle of the West Village, three and a half blocks away from the apartment he shared with Phichit, declaring that he was now his boyfriend.  It was as if the man was standing buck naked in the middle of a hot spring declaring that he was going to be his coach and that he’ll help him win at the Grand Prix Finals.  What did that even mean?  Why would he even need a coach, what in the world was the Grand Prix Finals?  What alternate reality or past life was his brain even taking him to?

 

“What!?” Was the only thing Yuuri's brain could supply before he literally bolted from Victor's presence and ran down the street.

.

 

Slamming his way into Bosie Tea Parlor, Yuuri grabbed the back of the closest chair as he attempted to catch his breath and scanned the room for his traitorous roommate.   

 

“Phichit Chulanont, you better explain yourself right now.” Yuuri declared, as he stomped over to the table where Phichit was indeed sitting at with Ketty from Juilliard.  Grabbing a chair, Yuuri took a seat next to Ketty so he could glare at Phichit from across the table.

 

“Yuuri!” Phichit exclaimed, not looking up as his fingers continued to fly across his phone. “What are you doing here? Weren't you on a coffee date with Victor at the world’s best coffee shop?”

 

“Phichit! How? What? Is this even real?”

 

“Very real.” Phichit said finally looking up from his phone.

 

“This must be a dream.”

 

“Nope, you are not dreaming.  If you want proof I can always kick you in the shin.”

 

“No, no that is not necessary.” Yuuri said, hijacking Phichit's drink and giving him back the green tea frappuccino. “So that was really Victor Nikiforov.”

 

“Yup.”

 

“And he knows you by name…”

 

“About that.” Phichit said, putting down his phone which was still pinging with notification alerts. “I may or may not have posted a picture of us up on Instagram yesterday...”

 

“Yes, I’m aware, at the Thai place.”

 

“Okay so you know how you were convinced that Victor was  _ not _ tweeting the lyrics to James Blunt’s ‘You’re Beautiful’ about you?”

 

“Why do I not like where this is going…”

 

“So I may or may not have tagged in him that photo with the caption ‘Yes, he caught your eye, as you walked on by, I could see from your face that you were, fuckin’ high’ and he may or may not have DM’ed me five seconds later.”

 

“I knew it.” Ketty said with a smile. “At first I was confused because why would Victor Nikiforov be writing poetry on Twitter declaring his love for our Yuuri.”

 

Yuuri's head whipped over toward Ketty, disbelief written on his face. “What?”

 

“I'm just saying, “ Ketty said with a shrug as she forked off a piece of cake. “It was so obvious that he was talking about you.”

 

“How!? There are like eight million people on New York City, why in God's name would you think he was talking about me!?”

 

Before any of them could answer, the door slammed opened again and in walked Victor Nikiforov. 


	3. Chapter 3

Victor stood flabbergasted for a moment, as he watched the light of his life screech at him and then bolt down the street. What just happened? Was it something he said? Was it something he did?

 

Impossible.

 

He was Victor Nikiforov. World's most eligible bachelor, People magazine’s most beautiful person five times running. Triple threat to the entertainment world. He was  _ Victor Nikiforov _ .

 

Yet, as uncomfortable as he was with his Yuuri taking flight, a little part of him assured him that this was normal, that this was expected. A voice inside him screamed that everything would be okay, he just needed time and patience, and that it was not like he had asked to sleep with the man and had been rejected, there as still hope.

 

Pulling himself out of his stupor, he quickly sent off a message to the one person he knew could help him.

 

  
  


 

Smiling at the crowd around him, Victor indulged his fans, and snapped a few selfies before taking off in the direction of the tea shop Yuuri evidently ran off to seek refuge at.  It was honestly not far, two and a half blocks and he found himself pushing the door to the tea parlor open a little too roughly.

 

Flashing everyone his signature Victor Nikiforov smile he got his bearings together and strode toward the little table Phichit and Yuuri were seated at. Slipping in next to Phichit, he gave the girl seated with them a wink before turning his attention towards his Yuuri.

 

“Yuuri…” Victor drawled, “why'd you run away.”

 

“Yea Yuuri, why’d you run away?” Phichit parroted, ignoring the glare Yuuri was shooting his way.

 

Looking between the two men before him, Yuuri had to pinch himself to remind himself that he was in fact, not dreaming. The pain which shot through his thigh told him that, no, he was not dreaming. _The Victor Nikiforov_ was sitting next to his best friend and conversing with him as if they had known each other forever.

 

“Yuuri, tell me everything about you.” Victor said shaking Yuuri from his thoughts as he leaned over the table and gently lifted Yuuri’s chin with his fingers.  “What kind of things do you like?  What’s your favorite places in this city? Are you really not in a relationship with Phichit? We should get to know each other better if we are going to make this relationship work.”

 

Yuuri wanted to screech like a pterodactyl again and run away, but Phichit was kicking him under the table and there was something oddly comforting about the feel of Victor's hand on his chin. Like it was meant to be there, his touch, his presence and as much as Yuuri's insecurities we're screaming for him to run, a deeper part of him insisted he stay. “Relationship? Victor, we don't even know each other. How… why, would we just jump into a relationship?”

 

Victor’s brows furrowed slightly as he considered Yuuri's words. “Let's go on a date!” He finally declared pulling away and settling back down in his chair. “Tonight! Are you free tonight?”

 

Yuuri was at a loss for words, and now he was quite convinced that he was in fact still dreaming. Not even the pain in his leg from Phichit consistently kicking his shin could convince him otherwise.  A date with Victor Nikiforov? What would he even wear? What would he say? Honestly he would just make a fool of himself. 

 

Unfortunately, his traitorous body must have nodded, because the next thing he knew Victor's mouth morphed into a heart shaped smile and he got up and gave Yuuri a kiss to the temple before sweeping out of the tea shop. 

 

“What just happened there?” Yuuri asked when the dust settled and he found he could breathe again. 

 

“You!” Phichit exclaimed excitedly, practically vibrating in his seat, “Are going on a date with  _ the Victor Nikiforov! _ ”

  
  


Phichit was saying things, things that made absolutely no sense, because yes, although he did evidently agree to go on a date with Victor, they didn't actually make any plans. “Okay, but Phichit…”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Say this isn't actually some crazy dream and I am really going to go on a date with Victor…”

 

“Yuuri, this is not a crazy dream and you are really going on a date with Victor…”

 

“Okay, assuming that is the case… where and when exactly am I to meet, Victor tonight?”

* * *

 

“Chris!” Victor exclaimed as he waltzed his way into the studio, draping himself over his friend. “I found him Chris!”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yes! And we're going on a date tonight! Look at him Chris! My Yuuri!”

 

Christophe took the phone Victor was brandishing in his face and glanced down at the picture. “Yuuri? As in  _ the Yuuri Katsuki _ ?”

 

“What do you mean  _ the Yuuri Katsuki _ ?”

 

“As in the boy from that gala two years ago.” Christophe said handing Victor back his phone. 

 

“No…” Victor gasp.

 

“Yes.” Christophe said swiping through the albums on his phone until he found the one he was looking for. “He looks a bit different with glasses on and hair down, Clark Kent effect and all, but that's definitely him.”

 

“Why did you never tell me!” Victor wailed, collapsing onto the nearby couch. “You knew how desperate I was to find him again, my very own Cinderella.”

 

Christophe shrugged as he slipped out of the chair and gestured for Victor to take a seat. “I forgot?”

 

“Chriiiiiiiiis!” Victor whined as he reluctantly got into the chair and the make-up artist went to work.

 

“Hey you forgot about him after a month or so too, so don't Chris me.” Christophe retorted, although he knew his argument was weak. Victor had indeed been a mess after that incident, and it wasn't like Christophe knew right away. He only made the connection when he was asked to address the graduating class at Juilliard three months later. He would never forget the way that boy danced, like he was creating music with his body, and a little part of him wanted to keep that boy for himself. The cat was out of the bag now, and he knew he didn't stand a chance against Victor. “Besides, you're going on a date with him tonight!”

 

Victor’s face lit up at the mention of his date tonight and all previous transgressions were  immediately forgiven. “Yes, yes you are right Chris!”

 

“So where are you taking him?” Christophe asked as they made their way over to the set.

 

“I was thinking Masa.”

 

“Always a good choice.”

 

“Or maybe Ai Fiori.”

 

“Mmm French is also good.”

 

“Or maybe Jean-Georges…”

 

“Wait,” Christophe said as they settled into a pose. “You haven't picked a place yet?”

 

“I simply just can't decide!” 

 

“So where is he supposed to meet you? Or are you showing up at his place and sweeping him off his feet? What are you going to do about reservations?”

 

Victor stilled trying to focus on the camera as Christophe bombarded him with question after question. He honestly wasn't too concerned about the reservations, he was Victor Nikiforov, they would accommodate him, but the rest… Christophe had a point. He never told Yuuri where they were going to meet, he never even told Yuuri a time, and to top things off, he didn't even have Yuuri's number.

 

“Chriiiiiiiiis!”

 

“Don't tell me,” Christophe said doubling over in laughter, to the ire of the photographer, “you didn't get his number.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Matcha Latte @ Bosie Tea Parlor... mmmm...


	4. Chapter 4

Yuuri was not at all surprised the next day when his phone started blowing up due to all the notifications.  His date with Victor had gotten out, not that that was entirely surprising either, since it was Victor fucking Nikiforov and the paparazzi had swarmed them everywhere they went.  Still, although he was not surprised he was plastered all over the tabloids and that all his friends wanted answers, it certainly didn't mean that he didn’t want to crawl into a hole and just die.

 

Phichit, being the little shit of a friend he was, did not allow Yuuri the comfort and luxury of holing away in his bed.  Instead, Phichit violently pulled off his blanket and yanked the Victor Nikiforov dakimakura out of his arms.

 

“Get up, Yuuri.” Phichit demanded as he rolled Yuuri off of the bed.

 

“Just let me die.” Yuri mumbled from the floor.

 

“No can do.” Phichit said as he threw a set of clothes at him. “Victor Nikiforov is in our living room, and if you don't get up now, I'm showing him your scrapbook... and maybe this dakimakura.”

 

Leaping to his feet Yuri dressed in record time and all but teleported out of the room.

 

“Yuuri!” Came Victor's voice from the kitchen as he stumbled out of the bedroom, the way his name was wrapped around that voice just sounded so right.

 

“Victor!” Yuuri exclaimed, turning toward the kitchen, his eyes never leaving Victor as he maneuvered his way across the room and picked up the mug of coffee Phichit had left out for him. “What? Why? How are you in my kitchen?”

 

“I was talking to Phi-”

 

“And seriously! Phichit? What? The fuck?”

 

The pout Victor gave him before physically deflating due to his line of questioning tugged at his heartstrings and Yuuri let out a heavy sigh. It wasn't like he was _trying_ to be confrontational, he really wasn't, he was just incredibly overwhelmed and so very tired. It was honestly too early for this shit and he hadn’t even had his coffee yet.

 

Sliding next to him, Phichit lifted his own mug of coffee up to his lips and smirked at him. “Jealous?”

 

“No!” Yuuri exclaimed defensively, his hands waving frantically in front of him. “Not jealous! Why would I be jealous? There's nothing to be jealous of!”

 

Raising an eyebrow at his friend Phichit just shrugged as he took a long drought of coffee. “You’re right. Absolutely nothing. It's not like Victor and I make secret plans to meet at Starbucks or anything.”

 

Yuuri glowered at his friend, because maybe he was a little jealous, because they had in fact made secret plans to meet at a Starbucks. Seriously, _Starbucks_.

 

Was this his life now?

 

His best friend making shitty coffee dates with _the Victor Nikiforov_ . Him, Yuuri Katsuki, dime a dozen danseur going out on actual _dates_ with Victor.  Them drinking coffee with the living legend himself in their little kitchen before he was even awake enough to form proper sentences?

 

“Phicht tells me you're working on your master's in game design.”  Victor said breaking Yuuri from his thoughts.

 

Yuuri's head whipped toward Victor's direction and he relaxed a little as he took a moment to take in the breathlessly beautiful man before him. “Hai.” He exhaled, willing the coffee to kick in and his brain to start working.

 

“And he also mentioned that you are creating a game centered around the Mariinsky Ballet?”

 

“I wouldn't say centered… there are elements.”  Yuuri said waving his free hand around as he inhaled half a mug of coffee.

 

“How exciting.” Victor said, his eyes shining as he took a long sip of his coffee. “This is really good coffee.”

 

Yuuri nodded in agreement.  This was really good coffee, then again they usually have really good coffee in their apartment.  Making coffee was an artform for the two of them.  “Phichit roasts the beans.”

 

“Mmm, that’s right, except this coffee was made by the beans Yuuri roasted.” Phichit said tipping his mug toward Victor with a slight click of his tongue.

 

“Oh right… I roast the beans sometimes too…”

 

“Well, best coffee ever.” Victor said licking his lips before giving Yuuri a wink before resuming his consumption of the beverage.

 

The wink caused Yuuri’s heart to momentarily stop and all the blood in his body to rush up into his face.  They stared at each other for a moment before Yuuri dropped his gaze and downed the rest of his coffee, setting the mug down gently in front of him.  “So… um-”

 

“Why the Mariinsky?  Why not the New York City Ballet?” Victor interjected.  “I would think you’d have more intimate knowledge of the New York City Ballet.”

 

“I… umm… what?” Looking up from his empty mug, Yuuri’s eyes met Victor’s and he suddenly forgot what it was he was about to say.  It was impossible that Victor, _the Victor Nikiforov_ , knew who he was, or that he used to dance for the New York City Ballet.

 

“You know, the company you were with.” Victor added, compounding Yuuri’s disbelief.  “I saw you dance, two years ago, it was breathtaking.  I was drawn to you because of the music… the way you danced, like your body is creating music.”

 

“Oh my God!” Yuuri gasped. “I can't believe you saw me dance! I wasn't even that good…” Yuuri buried his head in his hands, as Victor cocked his head to the side and looked past Yuuri to the statuette of the Benois de la Danse sitting half hazardly on the coffee table as a makeshift paperweight.

 

“Not… that… good?” Phichit screeched after a moment of silence passed between the three of them. “Holy mother of shitballs Yuuri! _Not. That. Good!?_ ”

 

“I mean…” Yuuri said fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, refusing to meet Phichit’s eye, which he knew reflected murder at the moment. “I was okay I guess.”

 

“ _OKAY_!?” Leaping out of his chair Phichit crossed the room in three strides and grabbed the Benois de la Danse off the coffee table, fighting the urge to throw it at Yuuri's head, opting instead to slam it down onto the counter in front of him. “Explain that, you fucker.”

 

Avoiding the statuette, Yuuri let out a self-depreciating sigh.  “A fluke?”

 

Phichit wanted to scream some more, maybe bash Yuuri in the head with his award until it finally sunk in how damn good he actually was at dancing, but instead he collapsed onto his chair and gestured helplessly at Victor, hoping he got his point across.

 

Victor would had found Phichit’s outburst comical if he wasn’t so distraught over the way his Yuuri was selling himself.  Phichit had a point, and he now understood why Phichit had been so desperate for him to get Yuuri to dance again. “Why do you do that?” Victor asked picking up the statuette to examine it.

 

“Do what?”

 

“Put yourself down.” Victor placed the award back down in front of Yuuri before reaching out to gently pull Yuuri’s hands into his own. “Your dancing was beautiful, and the New York City Ballet would not have casted you as their principal danseur if they did not think you had the skill to do it.”

 

“Probably… because…” Yuuri said pulling away from Victor and looking down at his hands. “I don’t have a whole lot of confidence.”

 

Pushing back from the makeshift island, Victor rounded the corner and closed in on Yuuri.  “Hmm, okay.  Well what I want to do now, is help you find that confidence and embrace it.”  Gently grasping his chin, Victor ran his thumb across Yuuri’s bottom lip as he slowly leaned in toward him.

 

Grinning wildly to himself, Phichit had his phone poised and recording when Victor’s phone suddenly went off, causing Yuuri to violently jerk backwards into Phichit while Victor let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair before answering.  “Da, Yakov?”

 

Phichit and Yuuri exchanged curious looks as Victor began pacing their living room, holding the phone out and away from his ear as a string of angry Russian filled the small apartment.  

 

“Nyet!  Yakov, I refuse.” Victor yelled into his phone, another string of angry Russian erupting from the device in response to his refusal.  “Then they can give it to the Canadian.  I don’t want it, not if it means London for eight months.  My Yuuri is in New York City, and New York City is where I am staying.”

 

Yuuri let out a gasp as Victor pinched the bridge of his nose and grimaced, the angry Russian coming out of his phone got even louder.  “No, Yakov.  I’m not being unreasonable, selfish yes, but not unreasonable.”

 

“Yuuri,” Phichit whispered, draping an arm around Yuuri’s shoulder and pulling him in close, “ _The Victor Nikiforov_ just turned down a movie _for you_.”

 

“I know.” Yuuri hissed back in response pushing away from Phichit so he could get up and refill his coffee, pausing to pull down the bottle of whiskey they kept in the cabinet above the fridge and topped off his mug.

 

“Sorry about that.” Victor said when he finally hung up with his manager and returned to the little makeshift island Phichit and Yuuri were seated at.  “I have to go, but I’ll see you later my Yuuri, da?”

 

“Wait, what?” Yuuri exclaimed scrambling to his feet as Victor made his way toward the door.

 

“Later, after you classes, I’ll see you at the studio.” Smiling, Victor waved before exiting the apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha! I hope you weren't expecting me to write the date or anything... xD


	5. Chapter 5

****

“[What the actual fuck?]” Yuri mumbled to himself as he scrolled through his news feed.  His notifications have been going off all morning, and he had half a mind to throttle that idiot cousin of his.

 

A cheerful bark drew his attention away from his phone and he let out a heavy sigh before pocketing the device and pushing himself off the bed. “[I'm coming, I'm coming. That idiot master of yours left before walking you again didn't he?]”

 

Yuri Plisetsky was not a dog person, he much preferred the company of cats, but Potya was back in Saint Petersburg and if he was being honest, Makkachin was a good dog. Running his hands through Makkachin's fur he clipped on the leash before exiting the apartment and made his way down onto the streets of New York City.

 

Five weeks.

 

He had been there for five weeks, hoping, praying every day that he would run into Yuuri Katsuki and redeem himself. He wasn't proud of what he said to the man a year ago, and honestly it was a mixture of nerves and disappointment. He was hoping he'd have a chance to find the man again, and apologize, and maybe convince him to dance again.

 

It would be his luck that his idiot cousin would be the one to find him first. In fact, it would be his luck that his idiot cousin not only found him, but then decided that he was now going to date him. What was he supposed to do now? How in the world was he ever going compete with  _ the Victor Nikiforov _ .

 

Not that there was much competition to begin with. Even he was aware of that much. In the grand scheme of things, he was just a kid with a crush on the most beautiful man to ever exist in this life or the next. Yuuri Katsuki was an angel sent down from the heavens above to shed light onto an otherwise dark world. 

 

Meeting him again, breathing the same air as him, existing within his presence, would be enough to sustain Yuri through the rest of his miserable existence. Perhaps his idiot cousin dating him wouldn't be such a horrible thing after all. Perhaps it would give him the opportunity to bask in the light that is one, Yuuri Katsuki.

 

Central Park greeted him like a breath of fresh air and he tried desperately to push Victor and Yuuri out of his mind. Maybe he'll go by the zoo and see the Snow Leopard again, but he had Makkachin with him which meant they were probably just going to go run around the park. It was fine, he could use a good run, get his muscles warmed up and burning so he could perhaps drop by a studio and dance the day away. Lilia would murder him if he allowed this vacation to interfere with his training.

 

Two and a half miles in, his phone started ringing and he paused by a bench, giving Makkachin a good rub down before answering.

 

“Da?” He asked when he was greeted with booming Russian and an oncoming headache. “[No, Victor's not here with me. The idiot ran off somewhere this morning.]”

 

This was not what Yuri wanted to be dealing with right now. Victor himself was bad enough, but now his manager  Yakov was calling him, screaming in Russian about how that idiot had turned down the most anticipated movie of the year, and now they were going to give the role to  _ JJ Leroy _ of all fucking people.

 

“[C’mon Makkachin, let's go find your idiot human.]”

 

Fifteen unanswered calls and three dozen text messages later, Victor finally returned Yuri's calls.

 

“Where the fuck are you so I can go over there and kick your ass!?” Yuri screamed into the phone, ignoring the looks he received from passerbys as he descended down into the subway, three steps at a time.

 

.

 

There were a plethora of choice words Yuri wanted to say to his cousin, and he had to fight with himself to not grind his teeth into dust during his ascent up to the recording studio Victor had told him to meet at. It wasn't even about Yuuri anymore, because Yuri could deal with the fact that his idiotic cousin was going to date  _ the Yuuri Katsuki _ , what he couldn't handle was the fact that he threw JJ fucking Leroy a bone.

 

Jean-Jacques Leroy.

 

That mother fucker. 

 

Victor  _ knew _ how much Yuri loathed him. Victor  _ knew _ what that fucker had said to Yuri, and how Yuri would give anything to gouge out his eyes and piss in his sockets. Yet still, Victor declined the most coveted role of the year and practically gave it to that mother fucker on a silver platter. 

 

When the elevator doors slid opened, all thoughts of JJ and drowning him in his own blood and vat of maple syrup was thrown out the window, because standing there before the double doors to the studio was none other than Yuuri Katsuki.

 

Yuri could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he stepped off the elevator and had to remind himself to breath. It was just Yuuri Katsuki. It wasn't like he was the most beautiful being in existence. It wasn't like the sun shone just a little bit brighter in his presence. It wasn't like the wind itself sung songs of his grace and the trees swayed to the swing of his hips. 

 

He could do this. 

 

All he had to do was step forward and say 'hi’ and maybe ‘I’m sorry.’ Taking a deep breath Yuri took a few steps forward and almost tripped over his own feet when he realized that Yuuri had put on some weight since the last time he saw him, crying in a bathroom stall.

 

Not that the added weight was a bad thing. In fact it was a very good thing, and it somehow made him even more ethereal.

 

Closing the distance, Yuri moved to tap him on the shoulder and make his apology, but instead he found himself kicking  _ the Yuuri Katsuki _ through the double doors.  

 

“This is all your stupid fault, pig! Now say you're sorry!” He found himself screaming as his foot came down onto Yuuri's face.

* * *

 

Yuuri wasn't quite sure what just hit him as he went barreling through the doors into the lobby of the studio.  Before he could even get his bearings, a foot suddenly came down onto his face and none other than Yuri Plisetsky started screaming at him. As if his life couldn't get even more out of control than it already was, he was now being attacked by an angry little Russian kitten.

 

He still wasn’t sure what it was he did to offend the so-called Russian Punk so badly, but it was starting to get old. The kid had cornered him in the bathroom after his disastrous performance, yelling something fierce about how there only needed to be one Yuri in the ballet world, and that Yuuri should just retire after giving such an abysmal performance.  

 

“I’m sorry, I'm sorry.” Yuuri said reflexively, hoping the kid would stop stepping on him already because honestly, all this hostility made absolutely no sense. 

 

Yuri Plisetsky kept going though, stepping down harder as he continued to throw insults at him until Yuuri finally had enough and pushed him off. Sitting up, Yuuri rubbed at his forehead as the teen leaned against the wall and glowered at him.

 

“What do you see in my idiot cousin anyway?” Yuri finally said, pushing off from the wall and offering Yuuri a hand.

 

“Excuse me, what?” Yuuri asked taking the teenager’s hand and allowing him to help pull him up to a stand.

 

“Victor, that idiot, why are you wasting your time with him?”

 

“I’m what now?” Yuuri asked shaking his head.  “I’m not wasting my time with him.  He’s  _ Victor Nikiforov _ .”

 

“Yea so?  And you’re  _ Yuuri Katsuki _ .” Yuri retorted with a roll of his eyes.  “Why are you playing house with him when you should be dancing.”

 

Yuuri wanted to retort with a self-depreciating joke, but he couldn't bring himself to do so, because in that moment everything suddenly made sense. 

 

Yuri was a fan. 

 

Yuri was  _ his _ fan.  Sure, he had a tendency to tell Phichit he didn't have any fans, and that people were just being polite when they asked for autographs and selfies. Honestly, it was mostly to get a reaction out of Phichit, that and a little part of him found it strange that people were fans of  _ him _ . A dime a dozen danseur, but who was he to tell people who to be fans of.

 

Little Yuri Plisetsky was a fan. He could tell be the way Yuri looked at him, by that spark he had in his eye which was undoubtedly the same spark Yuuri had for Victor. Sure, Yuuri wasn't the type to straight out attack his idol out of nerves, but he was prone to literally running away, so he figured Yuri just internalized things a little differently.

 

“You know,” Yuuri said with a small, teasing smile, “If I remember correctly,  _ you _ were the one who insisted I retire.”   
  
“And you’re a fucking moron if you’re taking career advice from a fifteen year old.”

 

Yuuri chuckled softly to himself as he held the door to the sound lock opened for Yuri, “You’re right, I would be. Although, I was already thinking of retiring, so it really had nothing to do with what you said.”

 

“That’s stupid.  You were with the New York City Ballet for what? Three seasons?  And made it to principal in that time.  The fuck it was time to retire.”  

 

“I wanted a change.” Yuuri said with a shrug.

 

“Well that's dumb.”

 

“Perhaps, but I'm working on getting a degree in video game design and fulfilling another one of my lifeline dreams, so I don't think it's  _ that _ dumb.”

 

Yuri scoffed, “Anything you do that doesn't involve ballet is dumb.”

 

“Oh?” Yuuri asked with a laugh, “Well, you're in luck! The setting for the game is the Mariinsky. So it can't be dumb now, by your logic.”

 

“The Mariinsky?” Yuri spat, as if saying the name of the company left a bad taste in his mouth. “What do you know of the Mariinsky?”

 

“I know they didn't hire me.” Yuuri replied with a self-depreciating sigh.

 

“Yea well, that's because they're a bunch of losers.” Yuri snapped as he tucked himself into one of the chairs, waiting for Victor to finish recording. “New York City Ballet is better anyway, you don't need the Mariinsky.”

 

“Ever since I was a kid I've wanted to dance for the Mariinsky.” Yuuri said with a wistful sigh. “Everything about them fascinated me. Everything about Russia fascinated me. I even applied to Vaganova.”

 

“What?” Yuri growled, sitting up a little straighter. “So why didn't you go? And don't say you weren't accepted because that's bullshit.”

 

“My parents couldn't afford it. It was cool though, knowing I got accepted. It made me work even harder and it's why I ended up going to Juilliard because that was the best I could do. It was worth it though, I think. I got to stay with my family and I still managed to get hired by a ballet company.”

 

“So that's it? You're just going to quit dancing and make video games?”

 

Letting out a sigh Yuuri leaned up against the wall next to Yuri, turning his attention toward Victor who was recording behind the soundproof glass. “I don't know. I thought it was what I wanted, it was what I worked my whole life for, dancing. But then I started performing, and the actual performances themselves weren't so bad, but everything that lead up to it… I was a wreck. So I thought why not take a break, pursue my other passion, video games.”

 

Yuri looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn't. Instead he just pursed his lips and clicked his tongue before glaring at Victor through the glass.

 

“So… Victor's your cousin.” Yuuri asked in a weak attempt to break the awkward silence which fell upon them.

 

“Yeah. And he's a fucking idiot.”

 

Yuuri opened his mouth to protest, but then quickly closed it again. Yuri Plisetsky was clearly upset about something Victor did, and to save himself the trouble of being attacked again, he decided that it was just best to remain silent. 

 

Luckily Yuri continued talking so Yuuri wouldn't have to  guess at what was bothering him. “He turned down  _ King _ you know.”

 

“Yeah, I know. I was there this morning when Yakov called him.”

 

“You were with him?” An unreadable expression passed across Yuri's face for a second before he shook it off and scowled again. “They're going to give it to JJ fucking Leroy.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Oh my god!” Yuri growled, pulling out his phone and pulled up a page before shoving it into Yuuri’s face.  “Jean-Jacques fucking Leroy.  The asswipe from Canada… he was in  _ Partizan Hope _ .”

 

“I’m sorry, I have no idea who that is. Then again I don't really watch movies or anything, unless Victor's in it.” Yuuri said, handing the teenager back his phone. 

 

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.  He’s not even that good.”

 

“Excuse me?” Yuuri asked, his voice low and threatening, dripping with venom as he raised an eyebrow and turned to stare down the kid who shrank back from him and curled up upon himself in the chair.

 

“I’m just saying,” Yuri replied with a lot less fight than before.  “He’s kind of over-”

 

“Finish that word and you are dead to me.” Yuuri interrupted, his expression turning borderline homicidal. “Victor Nikiforov is one of the best actors to have ever, and I mean ever, to have existed. He is a living legend, and cousin or not, fifteen or not, if you say otherwise I will end you.”

 

“Yuuuuuuri!~” 

 

Victor’s voice drew Yuuri’s attention away from the teenager he was seriously about to knifehand in the jugular, and the scowl melted off his face, replaced by a sheepish smile.  “Victor…” He exhaled as he was pulled into an intimate embrace.

 

“Oh my Yuuri is so perfect.” Victor purred, turning his attention to Yuri.  “Isn’t my Yuuri precious, Yura?  He would defend my honor against angry little kittens!~”

  
Yuri hissed at Victor before getting up from his chair and sulking out of the room, followed closely by a beaming Victor, still wrapped around Yuuri.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Text in [is in Russian] because I ain't translating that. And Yuri would most likely be speaking Russian to himself/Yakov


End file.
